


Rules of Conduct

by andchaos



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You did good work today,” Isabelle murmured, combing her fingers through Lydia’s hair. Lydia’s eyes drifted shut with her ministrations. Sometimes it was hard to believe that the girl who let herself rest like a newborn kitten in Isabelle’s bed could be the same young woman who ordered everyone around during daylight hours. “You should consider taking this up as a full time position.”<br/>Lydia’s smile at her teasing was lazy. “And what? Have my girlfriend work under me? That would be breaking protocol.”</p><p>Or, Isabelle dates the co-head of the Institute and they're badass girlfriend warriors together who still make time for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Conduct

**Author's Note:**

> from an [anon prompt](http://bkinney.tumblr.com/post/140654115875) :^)

          Isabelle swung herself onto the couch where Lydia was sitting and turned a radiant smirk on her, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she faced her. Lydia raised her eyebrows and shifted in her seat, uncrossing her legs.

          “Good morning,” Isabelle said.

          “It is now,” said Lydia.

          Isabelle beamed and leaned over to press her lips to Lydia’s cheek, but she turned at the last second, molding their mouths together instead. Isabelle threw her arm around Lydia’s neck, leaning more into the kiss, and she felt Lydia’s hands squeezing her waist. They pulled apart after a moment, but Isabelle kept her face tilted close. For a second they just stared at each other. Then Isabelle said breathlessly, “No, it is _now_.”

          Lydia laughed and leaned away. She stood fluidly and offered a hand out to Isabelle to help her stand too; she took it, but instead of letting go once she was on her feet, she twisted their fingers together and squeezed. She followed as Lydia began to walk.

          “I put us on the mission together today,” Lydia said. “All of us, actually. If you could try to stay professional this time, I think the Institute would greatly appreciate it.”

          Isabelle covered her heart with her free hand.

          “Me?” she asked. “I’m always professional. But I am flattered that the Institute is taking such a personal interest in my affairs.”

          Lydia turned to look at her so that Isabelle could see the unimpressed line of her mouth and the slight squint to her eyes that were meeting Isabelle’s grin.

          “That joke doesn’t get any funnier the more you tell it, you know,” said Lydia.

          “Ah, so we disagree again. We should get a third party to follow us around so we have a deciding vote when we squabble like this.”

          Lydia rolled her eyes.

          She pulled Isabelle into her office after her when they reached it, and shut the door behind them. Isabelle released her hand to lean back against her desk, and she watched her turn around so that they were facing each other. She was kind of hoping they could maybe be unprofessional for a few minutes before they had to get to work, but that was never Lydia’s way.

          Lydia strode around the desk instead of coming towards her, as Isabelle had figured; she hopped up onto the edge of the desk instead. Lydia began rifling through some of the files next to her inbox tray, and Isabelle watched her closely, how her nimble fingers flipped through the papers, how she snatched up the one she was looking for, how her gaze was sharp and steady as she reread what she could be guaranteed to tell the team two, three times about their mission that afternoon.

          “You’ll have to keep your hands to yourself, too,” said Lydia, looking up suddenly to pin her with a hard look. “At least until the mission is through.”

          Isabelle smiled sweetly. She didn’t know about hands, but she had a feeling that she had already lost when it came to who couldn’t keep her _eyes_ to herself.

 

\- - -

 

          Isabelle breezed into the training room without announcing herself, partially because she saw no need to when her heels clacked loudly enough against the floor to indicate her arrival and partially because, on the off-chance that Lydia didn’t hear her coming, she had a few extra seconds to watch her.

          Lydia was dressed down in a different way than Isabelle. Instead of Isabelle’s deep blue bodycon dress, she was in a sports bra and workout tights, and Isabelle _loved_ it. Her exposed midriff was toned in a very obvious way, and the sweat clung to the hairline around her messy ponytail and the hollow of her throat, slipping down the exposed skin on her chest. Isabelle took a slow moment to let her gaze slide over Lydia, head tilting thoughtfully, before she straightened and cleared her throat, making sure her eyes were on the same level as Lydia’s when she turned around.

          Lydia stopped punching the bag like she recognized Isabelle by that sound alone, but instead of looking pleasantly surprised—because Isabelle could never catch her off guard, somehow—she just smirked at her.

          “I was wondering how long you would stand there before you said anything,” said Lydia.

          Her sneakers were much less obvious against the ground than Isabelle’s heels had been, and she crossed to where Isabelle was standing just as Isabelle stepped up onto the platform. Barefoot in their bedrooms, they were roughly the same height, but now Isabelle had a few inches’ advantage. She used it, smiling as she pressed closer, and then even wider when Lydia’s head tilted back just a little bit to look at her.

          “I haven’t said anything,” Isabelle said with a little shrug. And then, with as much innocence as she had ever been able to muster, “Am I not allowed to watch you train anymore?”

          Lydia arched a brow. “You can watch me whenever you’d like,” she said.

          They stood there, caught in one another’s gazes for another long moment, before Isabelle strode around her and threw herself down on the bench where Lydia had draped a sweat towel and her bag. She crossed her legs, but when she leaned back on her hands, she still felt on display in an intimate kind of way.

          “So what brings you here now?” asked Lydia. She moved to stand in front of her, more distance between them than before, and she crossed her arms. “We’re leaving for the mission in a few hours. Shouldn’t you be getting the team ready?”

          “We’re ready,” assured Isabelle. “Just a few kinks to work out…”

          Lydia sighed. “If you’re trying to make an innuendo here Isabelle, first of all, it was _terrible_ , and second of all, you know I won’t put pleasure before work—”

          “Pleasure,” repeated Isabelle, and she knew her smile wasn’t exactly workplace appropriate. Then she tossed her head back and laughed, and she knew Lydia’s eyes would watch her hair sway with it. “No, Lydia, that’s not what I was saying. Just a memo from Jace that he wanted me to deliver for him.”

          “Oh.” Lydia looked nonplussed for a moment as she stood there blinking, but then she sat down heavily on the bench next to Isabelle and leaned into her slightly, and she smiled. “Lay it on me then, co-head.”

          Isabelle couldn’t help but giggle. She wasn’t technically in charge, but with her brother as one partner and her girlfriend the other, she might as well have been—and Lydia never made her feel like anything less.

 

\- - -

 

          The mission was going fine. Isabelle had changed into slightly more comfortable pumps, as well as a pants and tank-top combination that was much more conducive to running around the city. She felt energized, and good; aside from the fact that they were hot on the demon’s trail and about to follow him into a downworlder coffee shop that was well-known breeding grounds for trouble, Lydia kept shooting her flirty glances that spelled _fun_ later. Pleasure after work—Isabelle could work with that. If she had to.

          None of the downworlders were looking at them as they entered through the front door. Technically, Clary’s tentative peace treaty was still in place amongst the downworlders and Shadowhunters, but everyone knew tensions were still high—and everyone knew which places, like this place, didn’t really like the nephilims on their stomping grounds. Still, with two official Institute heads in their ranks and the rest of them as Shadowhunters who were well known to be their close associates, nobody did more than give them a bit of side eye as they headed for the back room, where every non-mortal around knew alcohol was served under the table and the atmosphere was a little bit rowdier for it.

          The takedown was even easier than the chase. Alec and Jace split off to take care of their main mark’s partner while Isabelle, Lydia, and Clary headed off their central target in a triangular formation around him. They slowly closed ranks as they backed him up against the bar. Lydia was yelling orders and Isabelle was doing her best to make Clary follow them (even though she still didn’t have a very smooth or real technique and even though she was still pretty abysmal at clearheadedness when it came time to fight) and in the end, they took him out with one hit apiece, with Isabelle landing the final blow.

          When she looked up, she shook her hair out of her face. Clary was already running off to see how Jace was but Lydia was watching her, that unwavering gaze fixed firmly on her face. Isabelle slowly straightened.

          After several long beats of silence, Isabelle cleared her throat.

          “Well,” she said, “that was easier than your five thousand debriefing meetings made it out to be.”

          Lydia grinned. “Maybe it’s _because_ of my five thousand debriefing meetings.”

          Isabelle laughed delightedly as Lydia took her hand and pulled her closer, until the toes of their shoes were touching and they were so close that Isabelle could have counted eyelashes or named the Revlon blush color of the natural flush that rosied her cheeks. When Lydia didn’t close the distance, Isabelle nearly did it herself. Then Lydia asked,

          “Do you want to dance before we go?”

          Isabelle paused. “Here? You hate downworlder venues, especially places like this one.”

          “I promised you pleasure after work, didn’t I?”

          Lydia had turned and was already towing her away towards the center of the bar room, where a pack of couples were already spinning together.

          “Yes, but this isn’t really what I had in mind.”

          Lydia just cast her one of her trademark all-business “I’m an envoy from the Clave, and I’m here to help” smiles and continued walking, until Isabelle groaned and followed after.

          When they got to the more crowded section of the dance floor, Lydia clasped their hands more firmly together and settled her other one on Isabelle’s waist, and Isabelle, rolling her eyes, placed her own on Lydia’s shoulder, nearly on the curve of her neck. Slowly, Lydia started to sway. Isabelle quickly took the lead, grinning as she spun them around and tried to teach a very arrhythmic Lydia how to salsa. The mismatching music didn’t help.

          “Okay, okay, I give up,” said Lydia, muffling her laughter into Isabelle’s neck as they straightened after an attempted dip that nearly ended in them both falling to the dirty floor. “Come on, the others have already left; we should get going too.”

          Isabelle lead her in one more circle, and when Lydia said, “Izzy, come _on_ —” Isabelle swooped closer and caught her in a firm, full kiss. Her lips were soft and warm and welcomed Isabelle’s against them like they had been molded together in the advent of the universe, only to come back together again as _Isabelle and Lydia_ instead of stardust and space. When they pulled apart, Lydia’s soft smile was far, far more beautiful.

          Isabelle released her hand. “Let’s go home.”

 

\- - -

 

          Lydia slept in Isabelle’s room a lot of nights. Not because she preferred it over her (in Isabelle’s opinion) own drab, lifeless, bare bedroom set up, but because a lot of the time Isabelle pulled her inside after she walked her there and she pressed one kiss then another and another to her lips until Lydia sighed and joined her in her bed. She always swore that she forgot to leave or fell asleep before Isabelle did, but when Lydia stayed over, Isabelle always woke up with her still lying there stretched out beside her.

          (Lydia snored in her sleep sometimes. Isabelle found it dreadful and endearing at the same time.)

          Tonight, she lit her candles low and they lay on their sides on top of her covers. Lydia had her hands tucked neatly beneath her head but Isabelle was running her fingers over her ribs, her arms, her cheek. Lydia was silent and watchful. She breathed easier than Isabelle ever saw her do on duty.

          “You did good work today,” Isabelle murmured, combing her fingers through Lydia’s hair. Lydia’s eyes drifted shut with her ministrations. Sometimes it was hard to believe that the girl who let herself rest like a newborn kitten in Isabelle’s bed could be the same young woman who ordered everyone around during daylight hours (or tried to—they were still a hard bunch to get to do anything they didn’t have a personal interest in doing). “You should consider taking this up as a full time position.”

          Lydia’s smile at her teasing was lazy. “And what? Have my girlfriend work under me? That would be breaking protocol.”

          “God forbid you break protocol.”

          “God forbid,” Lydia repeated. Her voice was low and murmuring, and Isabelle unwove her fingers from her hair to trace them back down her jaw, then over the runes on her neck, and back to curl around the curve of her side.

          Isabelle turned onto her back and Lydia shifted closer until she was cuddled up to her side, an arm wound around Isabelle’s waist and her head tucked into her shoulder. Isabelle thought she was out already when she leaned over to flick the lights off, and she settled further into her pillow, pulling Lydia closer to her.

          “Don’t tell anyone I sleep like this,” Lydia murmured against her skin. “Alec will never go a day without reminding me.”

          Isabelle laughed softly. She pressed a kiss to the top of Lydia’s head, and Lydia made a satisfied sound.

          “Your secrets are like my own,” Isabelle promised her.

          Screw protocol. Lydia was worth it. And with Lydia in her bed, Isabelle had been sleeping more soundly than she had in a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @ [bkinney](http://bkinney.tumblr.com/post/141329894225) xoxox


End file.
